


you noticed me too

by becharlatan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nurse Liam, Photographer Zayn, Romance, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becharlatan/pseuds/becharlatan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s 4 am and we can’t sleep. Let’s go somewhere pretty and watch the sunrise together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you noticed me too

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apprehensivekitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apprehensivekitty/gifts).



> You might notice the emphasis on Owie, Owie, Owie while reading the entire fic. If you’re annoyed with it, I sincerely won’t hold it against you. My brother thought reminding the readers every single time that Owie is actually just a camera would be a good laugh. It was just an experiment on my writing, really, so I apologise.
> 
> In case you’re wondering, I derived Owie from the baby mumbling of 00E (from the camera, Nikon D800E). 
> 
> See, I was babysitting for my neighbours’ kids when they start mumbling ‘ohs’ as their attempt to read the number 0. And then their version of pronouncing letter E was more of a ’weee’. I actually don’t know what happened there but the point is, Zayn’s camera has been named after the first chattering of those babies. It’s silly, I know. I’m sorry.
> 
> Onward we go, happy reading!x
> 
> Ray, babe, my beta, x

Dark was the night; rather, loud was the night, Zayn groans, as he takes another step on the staircase. (He’s been attempting to start telling a story of his life like how Bruce Wayne starts his but then again, he’s not Bruce Wayne.)

It was a wonderful day, the best day, even. He scored an amazing gig that day. As a professional photographer, Zayn had always enjoyed working with people, especially on weddings because he may have had dreamt of having being married once too. He’d always fancy the idea how two lost souls had found themselves after a long search, exchanging vows and words that will imprint on one another’s heart and memory forever. 

He’d always loved taking candid shots, cherishing and immortalising moments behind the lens of his camera, taking snapshots one after the other. 

It has always been Zayn and his old yet trusty Nikon D800E Digital SLR camera. It’s has always been that black and bulky companion ever since he was 20. He’d started working with photos to complete his portfolio, had always been his little Owie (the camera’s name) ever since he finished university and started working as freelance, charging pennies for a intimate and little events. 

It has always been Zayn and Owie (the camera), and maybe—he would rather cut his tongue and eat it than admit—his best mate Louis. 

The idea with Louis is his actually the best guy anyone like Zayn could ask for. He’s loud and sassy, compliments Zayn’s introvert and sarcastic attitude seamlessly. Louis always pisses people with his passive-aggressiveness attitude while Zayn deals every existing soul with his frankness. Truth might hurt, yes, but truth shall pave out, he reckons. 

Louis is the life of the party while Zayn lets the wall absorb him (no matter how much Louis insists that he’s not doing his pretty face any justice). Sometimes, Zayn believes him. Often than not, Zayn loathes him. 

And tonight, Zayn decides that he will make Louis eat his own dick. Or plans to, because he might as well deal with this sometime later. 

It’s half-past three in the bloody fucking morning when Zayn reaches their complex building. He climbs the stairs and groans when he felt the hardwood floor vibrate under his boots. 

The deal with Louis is that he loves to throw parties in their shared flat almost every time. He doesn’t get it, though, Louis’ addiction and alcoholism, that is. 

See, Louis works as a bartender in the club five blocks away from their complex. He works on shifts and most of the time if not always, comes home in the morning. He understands how Louis’ body clock is completely fucked up with his line of work. What he doesn’t understand, however, is how Louis still has the remaining energy to pull half of the dance floor and bring them in their home. And mind you, their flat is smaller than the pub’s dance floor. 

Zayn steps towards their flat and exhales tiredly when he reaches the doorknob. He grips the strap of Owie (camera!) in his hands so tight the knuckles had gone white. 

Louis’ riotous attitude makes him want to kick his best mate out of the flat forever. 

He pushes the door open and isn’t really surprised to find Harry dong a weird and horrifying dance on their coffee table. He frowns and sulks. He loves that coffee table and now Louis’ boyfriend had deflower the poor little mahogany thing. 

He watches in pure disbelief because since when did they have neon lights flashing from the ceiling. He studies the surroundings and looks at the bodies bouncing along the beats of the bass and cheering at the play of a beer pong on their tiny dining table. Zayn loves to party, he absolutely does, but then there are times that he needs to pause and think like, an actual proper adult. 

For example, it’s half-past three and people are actually _already_ asleep. His shithead of a mate really is something. 

Finding Louis totally engaged in bopping his head against Harry’s clothed groin, and the rest of the entire flat a total mess, he shuts the door close and heaves out a sigh because there’s no way, not even the slightest, he’ll get sleep tonight. Or this morning. Whatever. Louis is an arse, that’s for sure. It’s a good thing that he has not appointments today or else he might burn Louis’ hair and cut Harry’s long curls. 

He turns around and opts to head somewhere else to spend the remaining hours until he can go back to _their_ flat. Oh the irony. It’s his flat too and yet he has to look for someplace to couch surf. Who in their right minds would couch surf on such hour? Bet Louis would. Zayn wants to test that next time. And he’s going to make sure that Harry’s couch is out of the list. 

He walks down the hall, towards the staircase and settles on one of the steps, thinking to himself where he could go. He wouldn’t want to go back inside and retrieve a change of clothes. The smell of joint and reeking beer would ruin his mood even more. Besides, he has everything he needs in his rucksack—all work-related things, of course—so risking increasing his annoyance won’t paint a good photo. 

He places his rucksack between his legs and heaves a heavy sigh. Switching Owie (the camera) on, Zayn leans against the railing as he scrolls through the photos from yesterday’s wedding. He’d always loved taking photos, and had always admired the way people’s eyes glitter when they hear or see something. It’s always special when he had to witness such fond antics on such wonderful moments. 

He’s still scrolling through the photos—about an eighth of one thousand, five hundred, seventy-two photos—when the door across his flat opens and appears their lovely neighbour. 

Liam Payne. 

Did he mention that Liam Payne is Zayn Malik’s crush? He didn’t? Well, he is. He’s been pining for the nurse who works on A &E almost everyday of his entire stay here in the complex. Three years, in case anyone’s wondering. 

Owie (again: the camera) has been his first love—like any kid’s adoration for their blue crayon or their red truck or their gummy bears they crave after playing under the scorching sun. And like any other kid, he just wouldn’t let anyone replace his old yet trusty camera because Owie has been his happiness. 

Liam Payne, however, is another thing. He’s a different story. 

See, Liam isn’t that blue crayon or that red truck or that gummy bear—Liam is more than that. Liam is the entire box set of special crayons you use to make cards on holidays. He’s not just that red truck but the teddy bear you’d gotten on Christmas and you hug in your bed to sleep. He’s not just the gummy bears but the gummy worms, because gummy worms are special and they last longer and taste better. Whatever Zayn’s reasons are, the point is that Liam is different and Liam has always been special but Zayn has always been good at dodging and evading and settles on just admiring the person he loves from distance. 

Louis often teases him with ‘lil willie’ because unlike him, Louis has Harry. Zayn has Liam too in his lenses though, and not the real actual person. 

Zayn switches the setting and pulls the camera on his face. He adjusts the lens and takes a quick stolen shot of Liam. 

When he’s done, his eyes widen comically. He did not just do that, did he? He just took a photo of Liam Payne. 

See, no matter how much he pines for the nurse wearing scrubs all the fucking time, he didn’t do anything to make himself notice or never had taken a photo of Liam despite the fact that he has a camera to immortalise that beautiful face. 

It’s complicated. Besides, he doesn’t want to be branded as stalker. No he simply won’t let that. 

He straightens his back, runs a hand on his product-free silky hair and leans on his knees to look at the man in scrubs heave out a sigh. Liam looks so beautiful even from afar and Zayn shakes his thoughts because he knows Liam is exhausted and what with the way he hunches his shoulders just meant that it’s been a long awful day in A&E. 

Liam walks across the hallway and stands before Zayn’s door. He lifts his fist and about to knock when Zayn shuffles on his feet quickly, abandoning his black rucksack and almost tripping on his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” Zayn says and takes a stride to reach Liam. Cruel irony: talking to the person you wouldn’t really thought of talking to. Ugh. Zayn hates Louis even more. 

The nurse looks at him and Zayn feels bad for him. Louis’ party might have disturbed his night. (Another reason to hate Louis.) 

“Zayn?” 

Oh. Liam knows his name. He can’t remember any incident they’d spoken to one another. Could it be? Zayn shakes his head. But how does Liam knows his name? It’s just weird, isn’t it? Oh hush, Zaynie, you know Liam’s name too and you didn’t ask for his name too. It’s only fair. Right. 

“Uh, Liam, right?” Zayn is trying to act totally cool but deep inside his heart might explode from too much blood already. 

“Yeah. I mean. That’s me,” Liam mumbles. He bites his bottom lip and looks at Zayn pleadingly. “So, a party?” 

Zayn feels lost under the brown puppy dog eyes. That doesn’t do any justice at all! How can Liam look so soft and squishy and adorable just like that? He wonders if he’s properly suited in such once in the blue moon occasion: talking to Liam Payne. He gazes down his boots then to his black skinny and up to his maroon jumper topped with black leather jacket. It seems fine, he decides. 

Zayn exhales and shrugs. “Yeah. My mate Louis went overboard tonight. I’m sorry. Were you sleeping?” 

Liam smiles shyly and runs a hand at the back of his neck. “No, I just got home a little while, actually.” 

“Long night?” 

“Crazy night. I had to extend hours because my mate Niall was sick,” he explains as he points the door of his flat with his thumb. Zayn nods and frowns. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” he says and motions his hand towards the door of his flat. “Is he awake, I could try stop Louis but that would be impossible. I think they’ve just started the party or summat.” 

Liam frowns too. Zayn wants to wipe that frown away with his lips. Zayn, what!? 

“Did we wake him?” 

“He sleeps like the dead, don’t worry,” he replies and Zayn’s brows shoot up. 

“Then why? I’m confused,” Zayn inquires and Liam looks around; he wanders his eyes up and down and looks at Zayn intently. 

“You might wake other people, like, don’t you think?” He whispers and Zayn wants to melt into a puddle of himself because Liam is an image of innocence. 

Zayn’s love for Liam just increases. Liam has the brevity to knock a random’s door because he feels bad for the neighbours. That’s so brave of him, Zayn thinks. (He wouldn’t admit that it’s actually just sweet and not _that_ big of a deal but whatever, he likes Liam even more.) It seems that Zayn has been piling reason after reason to love Liam and to actually hate his best mate, Louis. 

Back to the point here, Zayn. 

Zayn nods but then shrugs. He doesn’t really give a fuck on what other people might think about him. Louis has been doing this crazy ordeal for almost a year and he’s actually surprised Liam is unaware of this kind of thing. 

“Do you want to sleep, though? Like do the noise bother you?” 

Liam shakes his head then smiles at him, “I couldn’t sleep. Well I tried, like, jumped into bed 30 minutes ago didn’t even bother removing my scrubs because I felt exhausted and all but the moment my head hit the pillow—I just couldn’t force my eyes close.” 

Zayn just nods, the sound from the room causes vibrations against the wall but Zayn’s too focused on staring at Liam, watching the lips move sexily, the lips peeking cutely and the way his brows furrow in concentration to mind the annoying sound inside his flat. 

“Have you experienced it too?” Liam then asks and Zayn blinks before running his palm on his chest. 

“Huh?” 

Liam giggles, like fucking giggles as he looks away and tries to hide the pink tint on his cheeks by covering a hand on his face. Zayn admires the antic, as if he’s being shy getting all flustered. He wants to remove that hand and kiss those cheeks because dammit, Liam looks angelic in such an ungodly hour wearing such cute scrubs. Again: Zayn, what!? 

“I said, have you experienced it too, feeling all tired but then the moment you hit the sack your brain just can’t stop thinking. Like all thoughts are keeping you wide awake?” 

Zayn looks at Liam and tries to swallow everything. Liam is actually trying to make a conversation with him, like he’s actually just saying his thoughts freely and so openly and Zayn just stands there, listening to him, basking at the wonderful fleeting feeling of being in Liam’s presence. They’ve never talked, never bumped onto one another, only shared a few greetings whenever Zayn leaves for work, just in time for Liam’s arrival from the hospital. 

Louis had always teased him whenever he spots Liam on the hallway, told him what a whip he is for ducking and trying to steer away from the man he pines. Well, hello, that’s the point, isn’t it—the entire point of pining? Louis usually speaks for stupidity, doesn’t he? 

“Liam?” Zayn then asks because this is actually a good thing. Like, it’s actually a nice thing—a wonderful timing, even. 

“Yes?” 

“Would you like, I dunno,” Zayn stutters. “I was planning to go to the diner and grab some coffee, and since you can’t sleep with all the thoughts running in your head. I, uh you can come along, if you want. I’ll provide coffee while you entertain us with that brain of yours.” 

Silence hit them like a strong gush of the wind, which is funny since there are no open windows to let a crazy gush of air in. He looks Liam hopefully and quirks an eyebrow to see Liam grinning up slowly. 

“I take mine with cream and sugar,” Liam replies and Zayn gazes at him with a smile. 

That’s so sweet, Zayn thinks. The coffee is, he insists because he prefers his coffee black but can’t stop looking at Liam’s smile. He’s certain that Liam’s smile is as sweet as his coffee and he thinks he wouldn’t mind. 

& & &

They are sitting in one of the booths on _Brookyln_ , a diner of Zayn’s closest friend. Liam is wearing a brown rugged jacket that surprisingly compliments his blue scrubs. He had pulled a jacket from behind the door of his flat before they agreed on going a while ago. 

“This is a nice place,” Liam says, amused and pleased as he wanders his gaze around the small diner. 

“It is,” Zayn replies. He removes the strap of Owie (camera~) and places it on table. 

Liam is nesting a white mug of his coffee—a spoonful of cream and two spoonfuls of sugar—and bopping his head along to the beats of Smashing Pumpkins from the speakers, playing softly, reverberating around the almost empty place, save for the cooks, two waitresses and them two. 

“How’d you know this place?” Liam asks. He lifts the mug and takes a sip. “I’ve never seen this one before even though it’s only a few blocks away from the complex.” 

“Well, yeah, you have to really walk through streets,” Zayn explains as he leans against the couch and takes a sip of his coffee. “Brooklyn is my goddaughter.” 

Liam blinks and a smile appears on his face, “Really? That’s amazing. Wow.” 

Zayn shrugs and nods. He really, really, _really_ adores that face and he wants to just look at him. Like forever. 

“Do you have one too? Godchildren?” He asks and wires his brain to formulate another bunch of questions to ask because dammit, he’s introvert and all but he doesn’t want this opportunity to go to waste. 

Liam tilts his head as if trying to recall any memory from the back of his head and shakes his head. “My sisters are married though, but I don’t know. It’s just, Ni and her husband had been really trying but fails every time. And, uh, Ruth and her partner have been travelling a lot because of their works. So, none. Yeah.” 

Zayn nods and studies Liam’s face; how he closes his eyes after telling the story and smiling to himself, as if no matter how cruel life is, he could continue appreciating it. It feels weird and it feels wonderful at the same time. 

“But I would want to have kids on my own, most definitely,” Liam supplies after a few seconds of silence and Zayn looks at him with wide eyes. 

Thinking that he might be looking stupid, he blinks and clears his throat. Hold your horses you dick, he wasn’t asking you to have kids with him. He was just simply stating a want, a wish, a dream—a fact—that he wants to have kids someday. 

“Me too, I mean, I want to get married and have kids. I want to look for a proper house and settle down and raise kids and dogs or even a cat and then wait for husband dearest for dinner. Things like that,” Zayn rambles and it’s been the longest sentence he’d ever uttered out in his entire life. He bites his tongue right after realising that he’d just shoved out of the closet his preference. 

See, no matter how much he pines for Liam, he wasn’t a stalker and he certainly did not know if Liam’s straight or if he’s open to be friends with someone like Zayn—gay. 

“That sounds nice, Zayn,” is what only Liam says but Zayn can see the pink tint across Liam’s cheeks and Zayn thinks it’s more than enough. He thinks, he can settle on that. 

They jump from one topic to another, music taste to preferred breakfast up to favourite colour to hobbies until Liam tells him that he’s a shelf of comics in his childhood room back in Wolverhampton. 

“Really?” Zayn gasps, the coffee mug has been empty hours ago (but really, it’s only been minutes. They’ve been in the diner for thirty minutes yet Zayn feels like he’s been in a cave with Liam for century now). 

Liam blushes again and Zayn can’t help but give himself a pat on the back because pink suites Liam’s face. And he’s the one who’s making Liam blush, ace. 

“Y-yeah, like I collect? DC mostly and I love Batman, love him to bits,” Liam says, his shoulders are hunch cutely, as if embarrassed about his hobby and Zayn nods approvingly, encouragingly which makes Liam smile. “Other people find it I don’t know, too stupid. Nerd? Geek, but I just like. I love comics. Niall doesn’t mind though, so I’m thankful, but yeah. I’m single because I’m a nerd.” 

And oh. He’s single. Zayn feels his heart do laps around his ribcage 100mph. 

“I think it’s nice,” Zayn supplies and Liam looks at him, his lips pouting and brows creased. “I love comics too, I love Batman too. I adore Hulk most especially.” 

“Do you?” 

“Yeah. I mean, it’s nice that behind every beast lies a very affectionate heart? Behind rage unfolds a serene and wonderful soul.” 

“Are you like the Hulk then?” Liam asks and Zayn smiles (small) before shrugging his shoulders. 

“Maybe,” he replies. 

Liam doesn’t answer but the way he beams is enough. 

They jump on random topics again, telling embarrassing stories about their flatmates, trying to beat each other who has the most annoying flatmate. Zayn wants to prove him the he’s the most miserable one between him and Liam because he’s flatmate is Louis Tomlinson, but Liam insists that he is because his flatmate is an Irish. 

“What if we let them meet, like I dunno. Get a drink?” Zayn suggests and Liam chuckles before shaking his head like a kid. 

“I think Louis will lost,” Liam tells him which made Zayn raise his eyebrow. 

“Louis knows how to drink. He’s great drinker,” Zayn explains, not accepting defeat. 

“Yeah? Well I think Louis is an alcoholic but Niall’s Irish remember? He drinks Guinness like it’s the source of his life.” 

Zayn laughs and Liam joins him too. They fall on a comfortable silence that gave Zayn ample time to cherish the Liam’s features one more time. He looks at the birthmark under his throat and thinks that it’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He watches as Liam’s eyes crinkle on the sides every time he smiles and the chirp sound of his giggles every time Zayn rolls his eyes. 

He spots the clock on the wall on the entrance behind Liam and stares at it. 4:50 it reads and then an idea hits him. 

See, Zayn’s not a romantic guy. Or that’s what he thinks because he’s never had a chance to be romantic and sap but he’d seen enough weddings to teach him how to be romantic. Louis is actually romantic when he’s not induced with alcohol and he might have seen how Harry blushes every time his best mate surprises him with little shits and dinners and all. But Zayn isn’t and so the next thing that popped in his head had been the most surprising yet romantic way he’d ever thought in his entire life. 

“Let’s watch the sunrise together, Liam.” 

Too forward? Too frank? Zayn stops breathing, waiting for Liam’s response and cursing in his head because he should’ve at least ask nicely. He wants to dock away, pull Owie (yes, the camera) off the table and go because Liam might think Zayn is being too much. 

The anxiety rises full blast but then drops to ground, shattered into pieces when Liam looks at him and smiles so wide, the same shade of beautiful pink tinting his cheeks and Zayn thinks that’s a yes. 

& & &

They cross the street, the roads are clear and quiet, after Zayn suggested a place where they can get to see the sunrise perfectly. Liam stands beside him, the silence surprisingly comforting and the light brushes of skin sends shiver in Zayn. 

It’s still dark, the wind whispering tickling hushes and Zayn grips the strap of Owie (*camera*) as they walk side by side under the lampposts of London. 

They were quiet until they reach another complex, streets away from their neighbourhood. Liam looks around the place, the slow hustles of leaves shaking and dancing from the trees as the morning breeze howl quietly makes him smile. He looks up the complex and looks back at Zayn. 

“This?” 

Zayn nods, and smirks, “Don’t be mean. I know it’s not much but the inside is pleasing, I assure you.” 

Liam giggles but nods his head, “Like Hulk?” 

“Huh?” 

“You know, heart and soul,” Liam tells him while swaying his hand before him. Zayn rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless. 

“You got it all wrong,” Zayn says exasperatedly. 

He opens the door of the complex and gets in. He’s almost at the steps when he notices that Liam was not following him. He turns around and sees the nurse standing outside the building, and has himself planted on the pavement and looks at Zayn worriedly. 

“Liam?” He asks, confused. The rucksack feels heavy on his back but the way Liam looks at him with those eyes feels heavier. 

“It looks unsafe,” Liam mumbles but Zayn heard him clearly. Liam shrugs and bites the bottom of his lip before looking up at Zayn. 

Zayn sees him right through. He smiles and instead, removes the left strap of his rucksack and unzips it. He digs through the bag and retrieves a black cylindrical metal. 

Liam is afraid of the dark. 

He clicks the end of the object and comes flashing a white light on the other end. 

“Come on, then,” Zayn whispers and Liam nods before unfolding his arms over his chest and takes a step inside. Liam tows behind him and they takes a step one after the other, the wooden floor makes a creaking sound and Zayn hears nothing but the loud intake of Liam’s breath. 

He quickly peeks behind and sees Liam’s head bent, eyes carefully on the steps as they climb the stairs in complete silence. 

It is nerve-wracking, is what it is. And not because it’s dark. Zayn knows this place all too well. Despite the old walling, the abandoned scary look it casts, Zayn loves this place. It’s like this is his heaven among the busy life of London. He was planning to get here anyway because Louis had decided to throw a party in their flat. There were no beds in here since it’s abandoned and he wasn’t planning to sleep anyway. 

See, it’s not the rooms or the hallways that Zayn keeps on going back to this place. It’s not that he bought this complex but this abandoned complex has been his second home whenever he need inspiration and, yes, this nasty looking, almost dark and haunted complex has been supplying Zayn’s creative juices. 

He saw this complex a year ago, curious because despite his fear of heights, he notices that it’s the tallest building among the rest. It’s a six-storey building, not that tall but tall enough to have the most beautiful and most perfect spot for sunrise watching and sunset viewing. The owners can’t decide on what to do with the building yet since everything these days is nothing but expensive. 

The climb in silence and Zayn stops when they reach the fourth floor. It wasn’t a long climb; the steps weren’t that steep so none of them complained but Zayn feels weird with how Liam stays quiet, almost uncomfortably it rings in his ears. 

“Hey,” Zayn says and Liam looks up, hitting the step with the tip of his shoes. 

“Are you alright?” He continues and Liam gulps before shaking his head. 

“‘M a little scared,” he confesses, brave and unabashed and Zayn wants to pinch his cheeks. “It’s just dark and I don’t know what to do with my hands. I usually like, I dunno. Hold on to something and like I feel comfortable when I have something to anchor on. It’s silly.” 

Zayn can’t help but smile wider. He turns to face Liam completely, looking down at him because he’s a few steps higher than Liam and pulls Owie ( _the_ camera) and puts it around Liam’s neck. Liam looks up at him, a hand nesting the camera. 

He doesn’t speak but reaches his free hand towards Liam. He smiles warmly and nods while waiting for Liam to clutch his hand with his. 

And when Liam did, Zayn tries to school his happiness. He’s crush of three years is now holding his hand. 

“Owie and I got you, yeah?” He says and Liam nods, a small shy smile on his face as Zayn turns around to continue walking. 

“Owie?” Liam asks as they climb the fifth flour. 

“The camera,” Zayn replies nonchalantly. 

“Why are you naming your camera?” 

“Why can’t I?” Zayn asks, a smile lingering on his face. He can’t see Liam’s face as the had to climb in one single line because walking side by side would be too crowded. Besides, it’s better this way, he doesn’t know if he can continue climbing properly without stopping every time he admires Liam’s cute scaredy face. 

“It’s just unheard,” Liam says and continues, “Do you name your other appliances too?” 

“I do,” Zayn replies and earns a laugh from Liam. 

“I don’t believe you,” he says. “Who names appliances? You’re being silly.” 

“But I do,” Zayn insists as they climb the sixth floor and smiles when he can almost spot to door leading to the rooftop. 

It’s the rooftop that makes him fall for this place. 

He’d done something on that floor. Louis teases him that he’s been scrolling to Pinterest so frequently that the entire place looks like a photo he’d found on the site. 

“What’s the name of your telly then?” Liam asks, hand clutching tightly. Zayn squeezes him and shakes his head as they reach the door leading to the rooftop. 

“Liam,” Zayn replies and Liam stops, he bumps his chest on Zayn’s back and furrows his eyebrows. 

Zayn turns off the flashlight and feels Liam tense behind him. He holds him tightly, pulling him to stand beside him. With his now free-from-flashlight-hand, he reaches blindly for a switch on the wall, just beside the hinges of the door and switches something. 

“You named your telly Liam?” Liam whispers, voice shaking from the fear and Zayn bites his bottom lip because Liam sounds like a child right now. 

“No. But I think I’ll changed it to Liam,” Zayn replies. He removes his hand from Liam, earning a low whine from the nurse. He places his right hand on Liam’s hip and pushes him to stand before him. With his left hand, he opens the door and are greeted by the cold howling of the wind, hitting their cheeks. 

Liam blinks and stands there frozen not because of the wind but of what greets his eyes. 

The rooftop has bushes of different sorts of shrubs. There were roses everywhere, of every colour and Liam smiles when he sees a small path with fairy lights (definitely from Pinterest) that leads to a small bench and table. It’s an open area and the sky has started to blend blue, pink, violet, orange on the horizon, as if telling them that the sun will peek out any moment from now. 

“Come on, we need to get front row,” Zayn whispers and Liam nods, clutching to Owie (Zayn’s camera) as they stride softly on the path made of rocks and pebbles. 

Liam settles at the other end of the bench while Zayn bends to get a fleece blanket from the small drawer under the coffee table. 

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t raining these past days,” Zayn says as he fishes for the blanket and gives it to Liam. 

He removes his rucksack and places it on the ground. He sits beside Liam and unfolds the blanket. He tucks the end around Liam’s left thigh and tucks the other end on his right. Liam watches him carefully, a small smile plastered on his face and Zayn beams, eyes flickering shut and cheekbones high. 

He hears a snap and opens his eyes to see Liam holding Owie (Zayn’s camera, mind you) on his face. 

“Please tell me you didn’t just take a photo of me,” Zayn says, eyes turning into a glare but blinks instead when Liam takes another photo of him. 

“ _Leeyum_ ,” Zayn is almost whining now and Liam only laughs as he pulls away the camera out of Zayn’s reach. Zayn grumbles but pulls away and leans back to stare at the wide sky instead. 

“You look cute when you glare,” Liam says mindlessly and Zayn blinks before peeking at Liam. 

“Like, you always glare in the morning. I’m always terrified to approach you, you know?” 

Oh. Wait. What? Liam has noticed him? 

“Wait, what?” Zayn asks and turns to face Liam completely. “You noticed me?” 

“Course,” Liam replies shyly and he pulls the strap off of his neck. He fiddles with the settings of Owie (the camera Zayn lent him) and scrolls through photos. 

“You’re fit, how can I not? But you always look in a hurry whenever I go back home from the hospital. And you always glare so I dunno. I got scared talking to you because you might shout at me and I’m exhausted from A&E so my emotions are all peachy.” 

Zayn listens as he watches Liam scroll through the photos of yesterday’s wedding. Watching him and listening as he tells him how fit he is. Zayn just watches in silence but the heart in his ribcage starts doing laps again, it’s almost deafening. 

“I’m really happy we got to talk now. It’s silly. I had to ask Niall to find out your name through our landowner. Had to be his slave for a month,” he laughs as if recalling the memories of his peasant pleas and Zayn blinks. 

“At least even if I don’t get to have you, I can keep your name,” he finishes and Zayn almost gapes. 

Oh. 

Liam wants to have Zayn? 

And. 

Wait. 

Repeat. 

Zayn is looking for something to respond, trying to formulate syntax, aligning letters against each other to come up with words. He tries recalling all the sounds of the alphabet, how to mutter and pronounce each letter because he needs to stick each letter correctly for formulate words so he could come up with a sentence. He needs to formulate a sentence to tell Liam that he likes him too. 

That he wants to have Liam too. 

But he can’t because his breath hitches surprisingly when the first sun ray hits Liam’s face, as he continues to watch the photos, a smile on his lips and Zayn couldn’t look away. He stares at Liam like Liam is an angel brought to world, soft, pure and faultless it’s almost a sin to look at him. Zayn admires the vulnerability and the honesty and he thinks he’s in the best spot in the world right now. 

The humming of the birds ring around the place, the breeze, cool and soft against their cheeks and the sun slowly unraveling, pulling the sheets of clouds off him as it peeks on the horizon. It’s surreal, perfect and Zayn is in it. 

“Oh,” Liam mumbles, breaking Zayn’s trance. He starts to panic, realising he hasn’t replied to all of Liam’s confession. He tries to knock his brain, pleading hopelessly to compose an answer. Where did his tongue had gone to? 

Zayn watches as the sun lights up Liam’s cheeks and Zayn wants to capture this moment, wants to immortalise this moment because a simple memory won’t be just enough. It won’t be enough and he certainly doesn’t want to forget it. He wants to keep it, let it run in his lenses and be saved for him to keep because here it is, he failed to reply and Liam might get up any minute now, what with the way he mumbled a dry ‘oh’. 

He blinks when Liam turns the camera so the small screen flashes before him. 

It’s a photo of Liam on the hallway awhile ago. It’s a zoom-in photo of him, lips pouting and face calm and serene and so, _so_ gorgeous. 

“You noticed me too,” Liam mumbles, eyes beaming and bright as Zayn nods. He scoots closer, pries the camera off of Liam’s hands. He places it behind him, without breaking the eye contact. He cups Liam’s face and leans closer; pressing his cold lips against Liam’s plump one. He closes his eyes, basking in the warmth radiating from the awakening sun and from Liam’s. 

He feels Liam shifts. Liam folds his knees, the socked feet against Zayn’s thighs and Zayn smiles as he continues to chew Liam’s bottom lip, pulling the legs to settle on his laps. Liam does and pulls Zayn closer, demanding for more press of lips. The blanket is sinking between their legs, and Zayn doesn’t mind. Liam has his undivided attention. 

They pull apart ages after and Liam smiles shyly before pressing his face against Zayn, tucking his head under Zayn’s chin while Zayn wraps an arm around him, the hand settling on Liam’s head. 

Liam fixes the blanket around their legs and looks up at Zayn with red neck and cheeks. Zayn smiles at him, cupping his chin with his other hand and leaning down for a chaste peck. 

He lets Liam pull his hand and trap it between his two hands, fumbling through the fingers, drawing shapes on the palm and rubbing it softy to keep it warm. They stare out the horizon, watching as the sun rays hit the roofs one by one, as if tapping each household awake. 

“It’s beautiful,” Liam whispers, his eyes at the view. He sinks deeper, body pressed against Zayn’s and so, so contented. 

“It is,” Zayn replies, his eyes are not on the view, however, but on Liam’s face and truly, it’s the most beautiful thing in the entire world.

**Author's Note:**

> If you find it funny, please tell me, I want to amuse him with his cra-ay-zay mind. I’m a slave for my siblings, really. So yeah.
> 
> Comments, kudos, thoughts? Hit me up.
> 
> Come chat at tumblr: wittyliterary


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